


The Handsome Stranger

by Theonenamedafterahat



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Armand is ridiculously oblivious to human things like emotions, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Pointless fluff, honestly what am I thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8847793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonenamedafterahat/pseuds/Theonenamedafterahat
Summary: Short fic inspired by the engagement scene in The Vicar of Dibley





	

**Author's Note:**

> Let's all just pretend this is set in a world where either Richelieu is a Church of England priest, or the Catholic church allows both married clergymen and gay marriage. (I'm honestly not sure which requires more suspension of disbelief...)

When Armand hears a knock as his door in the middle of the night, he’s concerned. When he sees who is knocking, his heart sinks.  

It’s Jean.  

Jean, who he has been pining over for years. Jean, who has been living with another man for the past few weeks, rather than visiting Armand. Jean, who is looking increasingly concerned at his continued silence, and saying, 

“Armand? Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” Armand lies, shaking his head. “Of course.”  

“Good,” Jean says, somewhat breathlessly. “Good, that’s good.”   

The number of  _goods_  in that sentence would seem to indicate the opposite. His expression is unconcerned, Armand might even say happy if he had to pick an emotion, yet it feels like there’s something oppressive in the air. Though that might just be Armand.  

The rain coming in through the doorway is making his glasses steam up, and that’s when Armand registers that he has answered the door in his reading glasses. Because that’s the kind of man he is, the kind who answers the door to the person he’s hopelessly in love with while wearing a pair of reading glasses. He removes them hurriedly, desperately hoping Jean won’t mention it.  

He doesn’t, though Armand just catches a slight twitch at the corner of Jean's mouth as he stows the glasses in the pocket of his trousers.  

There’s a long beat and then Armand says, “How are you?” He tries not to sound overly interested in the answer.  

“Fine,” he smiles, then looks down. “Well, as fine as I can be.” 

“What’s wrong?”  

“This is kind of a special day for me,” Jean shrugs, switching his gaze from the floor to a spot just above Armand’s ear. He’s still smiling though. Armand wants ask him what is making him so happy, but he has a suspicion that it is a  _who_  rather than a  _what_ , and he would rather not torture himself like that tonight. 

“Well then, how can I help you on this special day?” Armand asks instead.  

“Well,  _father_ , I might as well come straight out with it. I’ve thought about it a lot, and  _talked_  about it a lot - ” but not with Armand. Jean has other people to talk to. Of course he does. Just because Armand values Jean’s advice over all others doesn’t mean Jean feels the same, it’s merely that Armand hadn’t expected to be shown such obvious proof tonight.  

“And I wondered,” Jean is continuing, though somewhat hesitantly. “Whether or not... you would... consider... marrying me.”  

_Oh God, no._

It’s not fair. Jean can’t ask this of him, he  _can’t_. But he has, and now Armand has two choices. One will keep Jean in his life, if only for a little while. The other will ensure that he never sees him again. 

But it will hurt, a tiny part of him is wailing.  _Is it worth all that pain for just a few months of his company?_   

There’s only one answer. But he can’t give it, and look at Jean. 

“Well...” Armand sighs, then says quickly, “yes, of course, I’d be delighted to.” Like saying it quickly will make it hurt less. It doesn’t work.  

He continues not to look at Jean as he beckons him in, trusting that he will follow. Sure enough, he hears the sound of the door being closed, then footsteps ( _Jean’s_  footsteps) close behind. Armand won’t look. Perhaps a little bit of him is worried that Jean will be able to see the heartbreak in his eyes. Perhaps he’s just a coward. It doesn’t really matter.  

“That’s wonderful news,” Jean is saying.  

He really does sound happy. He must love the man he’s going to marry very much. Armand hates him already. He’ll have to get that under control before the wedding. 

_God, there will be a wedding._  Jean will be the groom. Armand will have to lead him in his vows to another man, and how is he supposed to do that when he can’t even think about it without wanting to scream?

Logistics. Those are important. If he focuses on them, perhaps he can get tonight over and done with fast.

“So,” he says, “have you thought about any dates?”  

“I-” Jean sounds confused, which makes no sense to Armand because who comes to book a priest for a wedding (a  _wedding_ , even the word makes Armand’s blood run cold) without some idea of when they want to get married? 

“Well, I - I thought we might be able to discuss that a little,” he finishes, somewhat weakly. 

“I might suggest Summer,” Armand says, and if asked he would have to admit that the only reason he has for proposing that season is because he had always dreamt of getting married at Christmas.  

“That sounds great!”  

“I’ll just check the book,” Armand says. 

The church diary is, unfortunately, impossible for him to read without his glasses. Not that it matters now, of course.  

Jean has moved to stand at the other end of the small room, by the fireplace. He must be cold, Armand thinks, after walking through the night in this weather.  

“Ah,” he says as he comes to a blank page, trying desperately not to sound regretful. “There’s a space on the 22nd of May, if that suits.”  

“Excellent,” Jean says, and Armand makes the mistake of turning to look at him. Sees his smile. He looks happier than Armand has ever seen him, if a little confused. 

Armand closes his eyes for a second, and takes a deep breath. “While you’re here,” he says after a moment, “we might as well get some of the other admin done.”  

There are forms for this kind of thing, after all. Armand retrieves a few quickly, before settling down at his desk with a pen.  

“So your full name is: Jean...”  

“-Armand du Peyrer de Treville.”  

Armand can’t help but turn back to stare at him. Jean shrugs, as if to say  _I know._  

“Let’s hope that doesn’t get a giggle,” Armand says dryly. For God’s sake, his name is almost as long and ridiculous as Armand’s.  

But of course, there’s no getting away from what comes next. “And what’s the full name,” he asks, “of the lucky man in question?”  

“Um - well, I don’t know his middle name.” Jean’s voice has gone soft now. It’s very distracting.  

“We can fill that in later,” Armand says. He’s proud of the way he manages to keep his voice level. He even manages to produce a smile, saying, “we’ll have to pray that isn’t embarrassing as well.”  

“Right, so, just his first and last name then.”  

“Well,” 

“Oh come on, Jean,” Armand exclaims, “You shouldn’t be marrying someone if you don’t even know their name!”  

Jean sighs, and Armand turns back to the book. He can’t watch. He doesn’t want to watch. He can’t see Jean’s face light up as he says the name of the man he’s in love with.  

“Obviously,” Jean says slowly, and there’s a strange note in his voice. “It’s... Armand,”  

“Armand...” He would laugh at the coincidence, if it weren’t so horrible.  

“Richelieu.”  

“Richelieu...” Wait. Did he just say?  

Armand turns to stare at Jean, gasps, “Pardon?!”  

“It’s Armand Richelieu,” Jean says in a low voice, staring at Armand like he can’t take his eyes off him. “I’m asking  _you_  to marry me... Armand Richelieu.” 

“What? But what about that - what about that other man you’ve been living with?”  

Armand is quite certain he’s hysterical, but it doesn’t matter because nothing makes sense and Jean can’t be asking him to...can’t mean what Armand thinks he means, there must be some mistake.  

He must have stood at some point, because Jean is now in front of him, looking up at him, and his eyes are very blue but this  _can’t be happening._   

“You mean Porthos? He’s my friend - we were in the army together, I was his Captain; he’s coming to work in our Police department in a month - I knew his father for God’s sake!” 

“What?”  

“He’s one of my closest friends!” 

“What?!” 

“I consult him about everything!”  

“WHAT?!”  

“I love you,” Jean says. “I love you, and I am asking you to marry me, because I know that you love me too.”  

Armand crosses the two steps that separate them. Before he’s made any conscious decisions about what to do next, his hands are on the lapels of Jean’s coat, and he has pulled Jean up to kiss him. Jean gasps very quietly, and brings his hands up to Richelieu’s waist, the back of his neck, pulling him closer.  

Armand pulls back eventually, resting his forehead against Jean’s. “I’m saying yes,” he says quietly. Jean’s hand is still tangled in his curls and it feels wonderful.  

Jean smiles, and kisses him again.  

Over the next few weeks, Armand learns many things.  

He learns that Jean had assumed Armand would naturally be against pre-marital sex (which, for the record, Armand has very much disproved now he knows it’s an option).  

He learns that Jean, for some unexplained reason, loves it when he wears his reading glasses. Also that if they are intimate for longer than a moment, Jean’s hands  _will_  end up in Armand’s hair. This deserves more exploration, however. Armand is willing to make this sacrifice.  

He learns that Jean likes to cuddle, and is very comfortable to curl up on. 

He learns that Porthos still calls Jean ‘Captain’. 

He learns that Jean is not adverse to Armand calling him ‘Captain’ in bed. 

More than anything else, Armand learns that Jean loves him. 

 


End file.
